


Remember My Name

by Yumoh



Series: Familia [3]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alcoholism, Assainations, Five is the best Boy Scout ever, Five needs a hug, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Morality crises, he just wants to go home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 18:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17903279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yumoh/pseuds/Yumoh
Summary: What's lonelier than being the man on the moon? Being the last man in the apocalypse.





	Remember My Name

**Author's Note:**

> No beta so forgive any mistakes pls

The apocalypse didn't have a lot going for it. There was absolutely nothing do do but survive and wander. It was about five years in when he stopped believing that he would be able to time travel back at least not with any accuracy. He tried but his powers wouldn't let him go far enough. Sometimes he got to go back minutes or even hours backwards or forwards but that was about it. He had given up ever getting back to his family who in this future were long dead. The only bodies he didn't find was Ben's and Vanya's. Maybe they died somewhere else or they were already dead before whatever wiped out the planet could get to the planet. The only object he had was the eye that he pried from Luther's fingers and Vanya's biography. He wondered who lost it and if they were really the key to what killed everyone. From his sister's book, he learned that usually timid Vanya could be scathing when she let her thoughts out but also that Ben had died long before the apocalypse. Also that the family had disintegrated under the weight of his death and his own disappearance. From this he had to assume Vanya hadn't died here at the academy but somewhere else. The book still didn't give many clues on anything that could cause all this.

His brain did calculation after calculation to try to make sense of what the hell had happened. But how could he rationalize the level of death and destruction that was everywhere. There was a coldness that settled into his soul as he gazed out into the moonless night as there was never going to be anything but questions left unanswered. Sometimes he thought that perhaps he had really died and this was his personal hell created by a deity who simply despised his guts. Or sometimes he thought that maybe he had just gone crazy in the time travel loop like Father said he would and that all this was a figment of imagination that his fractured mind came up with while his body floated in whatever void lied between universes. No matter what explanation he tried to come up with, it didn't make whatever the nightmare this was any better.

There was only two things that made it all better: Alcohol and Dolores. Alcohol came first as he quickly learned that the amount of drinking water he could find was limited. He took a bet every time he decided to sip if it was really safe or not. However distilled alcohol was almost always a safe bet if it had been properly sealed. Also it had the added benefit of getting his mind off of the nightmare that was his reality. It was on one of his many drunken nights that he had found Dolores. He was stumbling through the ruins of an old department store when he came across her. She was gorgeous with her kind eyes and painted on smile. He stayed up talking to her for hours and would carefully construct responses for her to say back. It was the first bit of "conversation” that he had had in nearly forever. It probably wasn't the sanest thing he ever did but he decided to carry her with him always. She couldn't leave him and he wouldn't leave her. It's not like he would ever have to worry about finding her body or see her blood everywhere. Instead she would love him forever and understand his every thought and action like no one ever did or would.

The first couple years, the world smelled overwhelmingly like rotting flesh. He was constantly nauseous because of it. He learned quickly to steal away from cities and instead go into the countryside. There was cleaner air since it was less densely populated. The only downside was the lack of canned food which he came to rely on. The vegetation was struggling to come back after being completely burned away. But there was finally starting to be buds of green which dotted the ground. There was a little bit of hope after all that life could comeback to this doomed planet. Perhaps not human life or at least not in any near future but the plants and perhaps even some animals could have a reappearance in the next couple decades. There was the tiniest bit of a silver lining.

His first winter nearly killed him as the weather plunged to temperatures much lower than it got back in his old reality. He nearly got frostbite before he managed to fully stock the storm cellar he decided to squat in for the time being. It wasn’t long before he got snowed in completely but luckily he had enough food and water to last him at least 2 months maybe a little longer if he budgeted it correctly. There was a pile of blanket and pillows he had collected which he arranged to make a bed. He burrowed within the mound of blankets and pulled Dolores close to his chest. There were still tremors going through him from the chills as he desperately tried to stay warm. He stroked Dolores’s hard back and murmured, “It’s alright. It's alright.” Not quite sure if he was trying to reassure Dolores or himself. That night as he fell asleep, his limbs falling numb, he really thought he might not wake up. The panic of this seized him and he left his cocoon of blanket to find the sharp rock he kept in his wagon. He pressed the rock into the wall of the cellar and slowly formed the letters of his “name.” At times like this he was upset that all he had to put on his proverbial tombstone was the number his shitty father assigned him at birth but it would have to do. If millions of years from now, someone found this then they would know that an intelligent being existed.

That next morning, he woke up alive, cuddled up to Dolores who as always greeted him, “Good morning.” After that, he made sure to always mark down some indicator that he had been there wherever he wandered to. It was proof to others but mostly himself that he lived and survived.

At first he thought about home a lot. Did they think about him often or did he just blended right in with the rest of the trauma of their lives? Father would probably think his loss to be an unfortunate folly but ultimately wouldn't give a shit. One probably felt sad but would kept going because that's the quality he needed to be to emulate the perfect toy soldier he always was. Two would make a brave face in front of the others but would cry to Mom later. Three would use as a reason to be comforted by One. Four and Six would cling closer than ever as Four would be on the lookout for his spirit. But Seven, Vanya was the one he was most worried about. She would probably retreat back into the apathetic shell that she was just beginning to come out of. There was no doubt in his mind that she would take it the hardest. From her book, it had seemed like his disappearance was the start of the end but they had mostly still moved on. When he read that she wrote that she still kept the lingering hope that one day he might come back, Five had felt his heart ache. He wished that if he could see her one more time that he could apologize for his broken promises.

Then as he grew and grew, he fell deeper into alcohol as he longed to feel anything else besides the suffocating loneliness. He always kept a flask on his hip filed of the strongest stuff that he could find. The passage of time was a tricky thing to calculate but he always kept a rough estimate. But even if he wasn’t counting, time reminded him that it was passing. His hair grew wild and untamed and slowly enough wispy hairs appeared on his chin as well. At night his legs ached from growing pains and his voice slowly sounded deeper as Delores would remark. Sometimes he would feel guilty when he noticed himself age as he would grow old like none of his siblings ever did.

He would visit their graves sometimes, bringing them offerings of things he thought they might've enjoyed. He had dug them all shallow graves when he first arrived even honorary ones for Ben who hadn't gotten cremated he assumed and Vanya whom he never found. Five could still remember the burn of his arms and sting of his tears as he carried the too heavy burden of burying his siblings. There was a certain inherent wrongness with out living your family. It made him irrationally angry at them for leaving him all alone but also angry at himself for leaving them in his rush to prove that he was superior. Sometimes he thought about digging himself a grave and crawling in with them. Then he would look at Dolores who assured him that he still had some purpose left.

So he survived and adapted. Growing old became a source of pride. Every wrinkle a Medal of Honor. Every gray hair was worthy of celebration. The world kept trying to kill him but he and Dolores kept going. He learned how to shoot a gun after strange animals started to emerge. He learned how to survive just about every natural disaster there was. He learned how to be a mechanic and construct more and more efficient ways to travel. He knew how to find food everywhere. Five had basically become the fucking best Boy Scout ever despite never being one.

There were some downsides of growing older though. His memories fogged and the faces of his family had become harder and harder to picture. He forgot things like the sound of Vanya's laugh, Klaus's favorite color, Ben's smile, the shape of Diego's knives, the color of Allison's boa, and Luther's exact shade of blond. It all was lost to the flow of time and he would never recover it. He dreaded the day when he lost all their happy moments which were far outnumbered by their less happy moments. Dolores would tell him that time was the best healer but he wasn't so sure that the pain of losing them ever stopped, it only shifted from a sharp pain to a constant ache.

Then his life changed once more as he saw the Handler down the barrel of his gun. She was prim and collected contrasting greatly with the rubble and general filth of their surroundings. Her smile glinted on the side of dangerous and Dolores took an immediate disliking to her. But when she offered him a way back to his family, he knew that it didn't matter if she was the devil. The tight grip of her handshake was a shackle that he was willing to endure. He knew he didn't want Dolores to see what he would become so he kissed her forehead goodbye and made a promise to see again before he left. From then on, he became the soldier he had always trained to be. But this time there was no "bad guys" he was killing. It was the innocents that he had always sworn to protect.

His first kill was a barbershop owner. He had a wife and kids and was genuinely a nice guy. However he had lost the destiny wheel of fortune as he was going to give someone the wrong haircut which would lead to a mess of events culminating in the prevention of a murder that had to happen according to the Commision. So he must die and Five had to pull the trigger. His fingers didn't get this message as his hands shook violently. The man in front of him was tied up and gagged but his eyes still managed to plead with him. It was for the greater good or at least that was how his conscience tried to sell it to him. He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the trigger. When he opened his eyes, he realized he had unknowingly transported himself to the back alley behind the shop. He looked down at his bloody hands and began to heave. When he was done ridding himself of the contents of his stomach, shaky and panting, he managed to get back to headquarters. The Handler was there with her too wide grin as she congratulated him. He felt sick to his stomach as he wondered what his family would think of him doing this. Then he remembered that was precisely why he was doing this as they could hate him if they wanted as long as he could get back to them. So he would remind himself of that every time he was out in the field that he was one step closer to going home.

So he kept on killing and killing. He rose up the ranks until he was the best. Five was number one in the eyes of an apparently all powerful organization but not in the eyes of his shitty dad, go figure. He went from time period to time period leaving an array of bodies in his wake. There was a bit of code he followed which was to make all his kills as quick as possible as he derived no pleasure from the act. He would never understand the sadistic glee the Handler took in every death she encountered or caused. But he would have to play along with her as long as he had to. Five knew that she would stop at nothing to ensure the apocalypse. However he was more confident in the fact he was a stubborn bastard and that he wouldn’t rest until he saved his family.

It was a matter of time before the right conditions aligned and he got to time travel back. He had done the calculations endless times and he was certain within a reasonable statistical margin that he would be able to travel back to before the apocalypse. The one thing left uncertain was his body which he hoped would stay intact but also at a reasonable age. But that was not as important as being able to get there at all. So it was with bated breath he attempted to pierce the barrier of time again. He could feel the layers of reality and time bend under his force. It wasn't easy though as his skin began to burn and itch. But nothing was going to stop him now as he focus on broadening the portal he begun to form. His head felt woozy from the sheer amount of power that he was exuding. He felt his body begin to separate from his current reality as he started to phase into the past. The pain somehow multiplied as he felt like he was being squeezed and his bones were being crushed. There was a moment he was caught in limbo between the two worlds. He could start to see into the past and there they, his family, were alive. All his strength which had begun to fade came back as he was closer than he had been to his family than he had been in over 45 years. He peeled back the last layer of time and there he was. His landing was harsh as he planted face first into the ground.

As he got to his feet, he was still in shock that he was really there. That they were really there. All his siblings minus Ben were present and alive (and would remain so if he had anything to say about it). The weird thing though was how loose his clothing felt and how suddenly everything seemed taller than he remembered.

Then older Klaus said, “Does anyone else see little number Five or is that just me?” Five was perplexed by his usage of little but as he finally looked down it was startlingly clear why. He was greeted to the sight of a body much too thin, wrinkle free, and small to be that of a 58 year old.

“Shit,” he said and that was start of his uphill battle to salvage what’s left his family.

**Author's Note:**

> Another angst one from me. If you liked it, please leave a comment or kudo I would appreciate it.


End file.
